The Good Soldier
by ShadowWolf181
Summary: They had nothing in common. Darkness was her sanctuary. Laughter and the comfort of friends were his. But evil had made its mark on them. Sooner or later they'll have to realize that in order to reach their final destination, they will need the support of each other. For mature audiences due to violence, scenes of rape, strong language, and possible gore.
1. Burial Ground

Time seemed to cease for Raven as she stared at the mass of food on her plate. Dinner with her mother and stepfather was always a horrendous task rather than a routine pleasure. Silence encased the small group like a burial ground at night. This evening's menu consisted of her mother's legendary homemade spaghetti and garlic bread. Cucumber and tomato salad with shredded cheese served as a side dish, and rhubarb pie would be introduced for dessert. Raven lacked a healthy appetite for any of these cuisines. In fact, a slice of German chocolate cake didn't sound half bad, but her stepfather had eaten the final piece the week before. Twining a couple of limp noodles around the tines of the stainless steel fork, Raven raised the utensil until it was upside down and watched with indifference as the food slithered off to form a perfect coil amid the other noodles like a golden serpent.

"Raven, are you not hungry?"

There was no need for Raven to look at her mother to know what type of expression she evinced. Arella's eyes narrowed slightly as her countenance bore a scowl that mirrored the shape of a horseshoe. Raven wanted to tell her to stop, that it disfigured the lines of her pretty face. Not that Arella took heed to anything her daughter had to say. As far as Raven was concerned, her mother believed that kids, in particular adolescents, had nothing important to say ever.

'Teenagers just care about sex and mischief and partying.'

Maybe her mother was correct. Every week for five days straight all Raven remembered hearing were the raucous voices of her fellow students at school, guys boasting about who gave head the best among their other sexual endeavors, popular girls debating which boys had the largest cocks and what outfits made them more desirable, and teachers sending the usual delinquents to Principle Zucker's office. High school officially became a breeding ground for profligacy. Unfortunately, her lack of interest in her peers' questionable subjects caused her to be the social outcast and a frequent target of ridicule. This didn't bother her however. Better to have the freedom of an outcast, than to be chained by association with stupid cliques that bent under peer pressure like terrified sheep.

"Raven, if you're not going to eat that then discard it. I'd prefer you not play with your food like some animal."

Arella's snappy remark thrust Raven back to the present. In her reverie Raven hadn't noticed she was lifting her food and tossing it back onto the plate like a cat toying with a dead mouse. While snatching a napkin from the middle of the table, she inadvertently glanced at her stepfather. He sat across from her with crossed arms, just quietly analyzing her behavior. She suddenly felt like a wild animal in a cage, her stepfather representing the scientist that studied its every agonizing move without a shred of sympathy. His impassive expression altered unexpectedly as he shot her an inane grin, and the powerful urge to smash his face in was ever so tantalizing. Having no appetite was no longer the primary issue.

Raven cleared her throat and enquired, "May I be excused?"

"You've hardly eaten anything," said Arella with an exasperated sigh. "Fine, whatever. You're excused."

As Raven stood and headed towards the stairs, her stepfather called out, "I'll check on you later, Rae."

Though she hadn't eaten much, a cyclone of nausea whirled inside her gut and threatened to gush outward like an erupting volcano. Already the vile bile's acidic property stung her innards. Her stepfather's definition of checking on someone had been far from ordinary. This was the card she had been handed. Despite its unpleasantness Raven learned how to endure. In this life she had no choice.


	2. Punishment

_CRACK!_

"You stupid bastard!"

_CRACK! CRACK!_

"Why can't you be more like your brother? Huh? Answer me!"

Beast Boy grunted and tensed his body due to the unimaginable pain. But he wouldn't dare scream. Each crack of the leather belt ricocheted throughout the room and racked his body with a searing, stinging heat that left him weak and fragile. Thankfully a January gust of wind drifted under the open window, and cooled off his perspiring frame. Crimson leaked from Beast Boy's bloody wounds and coalesced with the numerous red rose petals he rested upon that were arbitrarily sprinkled on the ancient filthy mattress in the basement. Why the rose petals were an integral part of his punishment, he could never comprehend. But then, Beast Boy couldn't fathom most of his father's behavior anyway.

The cracks were becoming more subtle in nature, an evident indication that his father was running out of steam and prepared to call it quits for the moment. Lying in the prone position Beast Boy could only see his father's relatively old combat boots, grime from the outside making them seem blacker than usual. He shut his eyes, not wanting to see anything anymore. Despite his resolve to be tough, he couldn't suppress the tears from squeezing through the barriers of his eyes. Disgust was one thing Beast Boy failed to quash, however, as he felt his father take a knee and drag a calloused hand along the hills of his buttocks, releasing a grunt of approval. Never mind the fact his son's flesh was the dark shade of an American bullfrog. It didn't appear to disturb him in the slightest. Unblemished skin is what he focused on, and other than the fresh wounds Beast Boy's was as immaculate as a supermodel's. The familiar sound of pants being unzipped caused a chill to nearly freeze over Beast Boy's bleeding heart.

"Please… don't," he whimpered, afraid of being disciplined for "talking back," afraid of being sexually molested if he didn't.

"Please, don't," mimicked the father in a high pitched voice, laughing insanely.

His cock was merely inches away from Beast Boy's anticipating hole, fully erect and ready for action. Beast Boy clutched the mattress tightly and braced himself for impact…

"Hey Dad!" shouted a youth's voice, interrupting everything.

A young man stood at the top of the basement stairs, leaning against the threshold while swinging a wireless phone around in one hand, the other bandaged across his lean waist.

"What?!"

"A Mr. Gordon is on the phone. He wants to know if you can work tomorrow."

The father exhaled a maddened sigh through his nostrils.

"That's my boss, you imbecile! How many times do I have to tell you not to pick up the goddamn phone if you don't fuckin' know who's calling?"

"Are you gonna answer the guy or what?" replied the equally irritated voice.

"Just tell him no, Dante. I can't come in."

"Tell him yourself. I gotta take a serious piss."

A wave of solace washed over Beast Boy as he felt a shift in weight on the mattress. The father grumbled a line of expletives as he zippered up his Levis blue jeans. Beast Boy could've sworn he heard the words "useless" and "son of a bitch" somewhere in between. Before heading up the stairs that led out of the lackluster grey basement almost encumbered with tools and other forgotten items, the father roughly seized a clump of Beast Boy's short jade hair and whispered menacingly, "I'm not through with you."

Eventually, his footfalls faded away. And in their place came another pair, familiar in their gentleness compared to his father's annoyingly gritty footsteps. Like flowers swaying in the summer breeze, these fingers generated a sweet and tender sensation as they treated Beast Boy's wounds with a rejuvenating salve, overwhelming him with an accustomed sense of security despite the throbbing ache throughout his entire backside.

"We gotta stop meeting like this Dante," joked Beast Boy.

"Shut up, Gar. You sound as weak as a newborn kitten," Dante chuckled. "On a more serious note… what did you do this time to make Dad so mad?"

For a while there was silence. Then Beast Boy mumbled, "Got sent to Principal Zucker's office again."

"Why am I not surprised?" muttered Dante to no one.

"Because I must've been over there a hundred times already."

"Right," he snorted, smiling at the fond and not so fond memories of when he was sent to the principal's office before converting into a "mature" adult.

"You're smarter than you want people to believe. Don't you think it's about time you actually _used _those smarts, instead of getting into trouble?" asked Dante sensibly.

Grunting, Beast Boy managed to raise his head long enough to receive a better view of his brother. He gave a bitter laugh.

"Since when did you become the voice of reason? Even if I did prove Dad wrong by showing how brilliant I am, it wouldn't change anything. Dad is… Dad. He'll always hate my damn guts no matter what I do."

The sudden dip in the mattress informed Beast Boy that Dante decided to lie beside him. Warmth emanated strongly from his body. Beast Boy wished he could wrap himself in that placid heat like he did when they were little kids. At the hormone-crazy age of sixteen, Beast Boy was just three years younger than his elder brother, but his intelligence was already on par with Dante's. With his short black hair and somewhat muscular frame, Dante closely resembled their father. On the other side, Beast Boy had the gentle features of their mother, who perished from an incurable illness a few years ago.

"Hey, Gar… you ever think the reason why Dad suddenly went insane is because of Mom's death?"

"Well… yeah," said Beast Boy pensively. "I mean… he was a cool guy before Mom died. After her death, though, he became abusive, attacking us for no apparent reason. You remember."

"Of course. He really loved her, you know? Probably more than the two of us combined. And we loved her a lot."

"Yeah, right," agreed Beast Boy, grinning. "He was definitely a doting husband. I guess I can understand why he finally went psycho."

Dante sat up then and retorted, "No, you can't. Until you've fallen in love yourself you can't possibly know what that feels like."

Beast Boy's brows furrowed in perplexity. "What's up your ass?"

"S-Sorry," Dante stumbled with an apologetic expression. "Just forget I said anything. Come on, let's get you upstairs."


End file.
